


it's been a long hard twenty-year summer vacation

by littlemartyr



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Episode Tag, Friends to Enemies, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pseudo-Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemartyr/pseuds/littlemartyr
Summary: It had been really hot, watching Kendall fuck up everything on national television. It was hot and a little disturbing too, which luckily was Stewy’s favorite combo.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	it's been a long hard twenty-year summer vacation

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after episode 2.10 "This Is Not For Tears". Title from the brilliant Mitski and her song Crack Baby

When Stewy shot off his, “hey dude that was fucking crazy. If you need a place to stay let me know” text he wasn’t expecting Kendall to show up at his place at three in the fucking morning. 

He hadn’t been expecting him to show up at all, really. At most he had been expecting Kendall to reply with something along the lines of “Thanks man I appreciate it. I really do. I'm fine, but thanks”. Kendall had been shutting him out lately, which wasn’t personal, although it really should have been. It should have been personal after everything Stewy had put Kendall through; the whole hostile takeover ficaso, the Sandy shit, yada yada, etcetera etcetera. But Kendall is if anything, a forgiving motherfucker, so yeah it’s not personal. Stewy knows Kendall, he knows he does this, fucks around and shuts people out, especially when he’s feeling extra self-destructive. It used to really scare Stewy, back when they went to college together, but now it’s not really his business what Kendall does so whatever. 

It had been really hot though, watching Kendall fuck up everything on national television. It was hot and a little disturbing too, which was Stewy’s favorite combo. It was like watching a car crash or one of those fucked up LiveLeak videos, horrific and nauseating but also overwhelmingly entertaining. He honestly didn’t even think Kendall had the balls to do shit like that anymore, and it gave him a little bit of a hard-on the first time he watched it. And then he watched it again. And again. And eventually he got up and got his phone and texted Kendall. He noticed he was getting a shitton of notifications, texts, emails, phone calls and whatnot, more than usual anyways. Everyone who knew someone who knew a Roy was probably fucking kicking down their technological door right now.

He opened one of his millions of texts, one from an old business school buddy. Ah, okay. Apparently people were placing bets on whether or not The Chosen Son would kill himself within the next 24 hours. Stewy shot back a proper “Fuck off, fuck you” text and then, a few minutes later, bet a couple thosuand on Kendall offing himself. He knew it was an incredibly huge douchebag move, but whatever, he’d use the money to pay for his therapy bills if Kendall died. Kendall had kind of been teetering on death’s door for the last few decades and if cutting his very last ties to Daddy and Daddy’s Empire was the thing that broke him, well, Stewy wouldn’t be surprised. 

Kendall didn’t end up killing himself though. Kendall ended up showing up at Stewy’s door at three in the fucking morning, and honestly, Stewy’s not sure which he would have preferred. 

“Hey,” Kendall said, looking more exhausted than usual.

“What the fuck dude?” Stewy said back, because what the fuck.

“You uh, said I could stay here?” Kendall mumbled, unsure and embarrassed.

“I said let me _know_ if you needed a place to stay,” Stewy groaned, “but yeah, you can crash here. Take the fucking couch.”

Making Kendall take the couch was also a major douchebag move because Stewy had like, multiple bedrooms in his loft. But he was pissed off about Kendall waking him up at three, he was pissed at Kendall for never telling him why he backed out of their plan last minute, and he was pissed at Kendall for a million of little reasons he didn’t want to get into. Besides, Kendall had always had, like, a Thing about beds. He would never let Stewy fuck him on his own bed in college because Stewy hadn’t bothered to buy a high-quality mattress topper and the springs hurt his back and a bunch of other bullshit. The last thing Stewy needed was to wake up to Kendall complaining about his bed’s low thread count or something like that. So yeah. He could take the fucking couch.

Stewy woke up the next morning, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and shuffling out of his bedroom. It wasn't early but he was still up before Kendall. He dismissed his chef and made breakfast for himself and Kendall. Back when they went to grade school together Kendall had always been a huge slut for his mom’s Khagineh, and while Stewy had never been the best cook, he sure as hell could make it better than his chef. Stewy was briefly transported back in time, freshman year of Harvard, one of the first nights they had spent together in their apartment. (Roys don’t do dorms)

_“You’re fucking kidding me right, dude?”, Kendall laughed at Stewy, “I mean I knew you were stupid, but there’s no fucking way you’re this retarded.”_

_“What? Oh God, sorry I don’t how to fucking cut a slice of pizza, like it’s so important.” Stewy retorted back, defensively._

_“I can’t, I seriously can’t fucking do this man,” Kendall cried out, hysetical, crumbling to the floor, “I can’t believe you don’t know how to slice pizza, you’re insane.”_

_“I do, I just-” Stewy’s cheeks grew hot as he fumbled with the various appliances on their countertop, “I forgot to take the fucking safety cover off.”_

_“No dude, but it’s like I’m just sitting there, waiting, the last ten fucking mintues, watching you hack away at the fucking thing,” Kendall was howling now, “and I finally go over to see what the fuck is wrong and you’re there, like just rolling a fucking pizza cutter around the pizza with the safety cover still on. Insane man, insane.”_

_Stewy opened his mouth, a desperate attempt to save himself somehow, before realizing there was no defending this. He broke into hysterical laughter as well, eventually joining Kendall on the floor, laying down next to him._

_“I mean fuck man, I’ve never cooked anything before in my life, how was I suppose to know?” Stewy said a few minutes later, finally starting to settle down._

_“No it’s okay man, me neither,” Kendall admitted, tilting his head to look over at Stewy, “I guess I just like knew from tv and movies and shit.”_

_Stewy had laughed and Kendall had grinned up at him, a wide open smile with his eyes gleaming. Stewy was overcome (not for the first time) with a desire to lean down and kiss Kendall. Shuddering, he dug his nails into his palm, waiting for the feeling to subside while he returned the grin. Small half-moons were embedded across his palms when he finally pulled his fingers away._

Although this was an incident that Kendall _loved_ to bring up at all the parties and clubs they went to that year, he was never particularly cruel about it. Nevertheless, Stewy refused to let himself be embarrassed like that again. He spent his next few years at college trying to learn basic recipes, and then, eventually, asked his mom for some of her favorites. Kendall refused to eat anything Stewy ever made, citing “the pizza incident” and laughing, saying he couldn’t be trusted with anything in the kitchen. Which was fine, it was really alright with Stewy, more food for himself.

Not today though, today Kendall wandered into the kitchen, plopped onto one of Stewy’s Boca Do Lobo stools, and began to violently stab at his breakfast.

“Fuck man,” Stewy said, looking up for his tablet, “take it easy. It’s Khagineh, not your dad.”

Kendall snorted and continued to massacre his meal. Stewy smiled, scrolling through his morning news, discovering many, many articles about Kendall. _Well fuck,_ he had thought, _how the hell am I suppose to distract him from all of this?_

Distracting Kendall, as it turned out, was just as easy as it had been in college. They had ended up in the back of a club, some place that was covered wall-to-wall with B-list celebrities, Instagram influencers and Fashion Nova models, people who were all depressingly less important than Kendall, but unbelievably more famous. It was perfect really, he could get Kendall real good here, get him nice and blacked out, nice and fucked up, and he wouldn’t even have to worry about it showing up in the papers the next day because some washed up former child star was undoubtedly doing the same exact thing just a few feet away. 

They had both ended up completely wasted, sprawled across the club’s bathroom floor, trying to do lines off each other's palms. Stewy was a shaky, sweaty mess and so was Kendall. One of them must have said something funny because they were both laughing, Stewy clutching at his sides in hysterics. 

As their laughter slowly faded, Stewy wiped tears from his eyes, noticing how far Kendall had moved from him. They had snuck into one of the stalls for handicapped people so there was plenty of space, and Kendall had his back pressed against the wall opposite to Stewy, slumped across the floor, a familiarly happy and dazed expression painted across his face. Stewy was painfully reminded of how beautiful he was like this, how beautiful he always was really. 

“Hey dude,” Stewy smiled at him, “you should like, totally kiss me.”

“I uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kendall stuttered, his stupidly happy expression lingering on his face but beginning to melt. 

“Why not, can’t get it up like you used to?” Stewy sneered.

“Shut up,” Kendall retorted, frowning. 

“Oh God no, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot,” Stewy chuckled, “Daddy still keeps you locked up, right? With that cute little chastity belt, I remember now.” 

“Fuck off dude,” Kendall snarled, “I’m leaving right now, seriously.” 

“Yeah okay,” Stewy snorted, watching Kendall try to get up. To his surprise Kendall actually did, but he stumbled with each step, and Stewy watched him trip over himself right before the stall’s door. 

Stewy laughed, and crawled over to Kendall, knowing he’d probably fall as well if he tried to get up. Kendall pulled himself up into sitting position, glaring at Stewy, menacing but sad. Stewy reached out, hands shaking as they made their way towards Kendall’s face. Kendall shockingly let him, his eyes fluttering closed as Stewy’s fingers curled around the sides of his face. 

“God you’re so fucked up,” Stewy whispered, “what the hell happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kendall said, flinching at Stewy’s words.

“Sure you do,” Stewy said, a little desperately, “you can’t even look at me right now. What does he have on you?” 

“Nothing, I saw the plan, my dad’s was better,” Kendall whispered miserably.

“Oh fuck you man,” Stewy hissed, exasperated, “I _know_ you, I know you better than anyone, I know you better than he certaintely fucking does, and I know you’re lying.” 

Kendall shrugged, and Stewy felt something hit the bottom of his stomach, something low and painful. 

“What is it? Is it something about the fucking cruise line? Because that ship has fucking sailed baby, like both literally and metaphorically. You ripped him to fucking shreds on national television for it, you can’t protect him anymore.”

“I wasn’t protecting him,” Kendall insisted, pulling away from Stewy, “He was protecting me.”

“Bullshit,” Stewy cried out, “he’s never done shit for you Kendall. Whatever it is, it’s probably his fault and you just wanna play fucking martyr. He’s not a god, you know that right? I could fucking destroy him if I wanted to.”

Kendall laughed, and Stewy felt a wave, hot and angry rise up in his chest. 

“I could,” he retorted, “my people could. Sandy could. PMG could. One of us probably will after this anyways.” 

Kendall made a sound like a wounded animal, laughing and sobbing at the same time. Stewy felt like he was going insane, he felt like he was watching Kendall go insane. He’d never seen Kendall like this, and he’d Kendall at- well, he’d seen Kendall at a lot of different points in his life. 

_The first time Kendall had OD’ed they were only eighteen. It was freshman year on Halloween and the whole week Kendall had been getting calls from his father. Kendall had never told him what they were about, but he would always walk back into their dorm looking pale and sweaty. Usually he would wander out to a bar or a club or frat house a few hours later, and naturally, Stewy would tag along. It wasn’t a big deal, they were at Harvard and every day the whole week of Halloween there was some kind of party, so they would be stupid to not take advange of them anyways. It wasn’t an issue, it really wasn’t... until it was._

_Stewy had left Kendall alone for like, two hours at most and the next thing he knew he was being swarmed by a few partygoers, asking if he was the guy who had brought Kendall Roy to the party._

_“Yeah, yeah guilty as charged,” he had laughed, the question was not an unfamiliar one to him._

_His smile slipped when he noticed expressions of concern fluttering across each of their faces. He heard the word OD’ed and remembered everything going silent, though it hadn’t really. It was like some switch had been flipped and suddenly he could see the words forming on the lips of the people around him, but they never hit his ears. Shaking, he made his way up the stairs of the frat house, people darting around him, seemingly trying to escape the scene of a crime._

_Opening the door to the bathroom, he was met with a small dark-haired girl leaning over Kendall’s body. There was vomit everywhere, the sink, the sink countertop, the toilet, the floor, even the bathtub was spoiled. Both the girl herself and Kendall were covered in it, her shaking and screaming something at him, him unresponsive and slack. Stewy felt something sickly rise up in his stomach, and he forced himself to push it down. His body moved as if it was in slow motion, the only thing he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears, his heart beating unbelievably fast._

_“Stop...stop...just fucking stop,” he cried out to the girl, trying to pry her off him, “call 911 or something useful, please.”_

_“I can’t,” she looked up at him, an unmistakable tint of fear in her wide eyes, “he um, he told me I couldn’t when he was still conscious. He told me his Dad would kill him if I called anyone.”_

_“Yeah, well probably,” Stewy mumbled, trying not to think about what Logan might do, “but I’d rather see him go down fighting his fucking dad than like this.”_

_He had waited with the girl for the emergency responders for what felt like eons, counting each of Kendall’s shaky breaths like they might be his last. For the most part, he really thought they were. The girl had held onto him, her fingernails digging deep into his palm, reminding Stewy of a familiar habit. She had smelled nice, like expensive cashmere and vanilla, and Stewy made note that she was actually quite beautiful, he might’ve even asked for her number if they were in any other situation. Part of him was eternally grateful she was here, someone to be with, someone to break down and cry with. Another part of him, a deep secret part of him, wanted it to just be him and Kendall. Selfishly he didn’t want anyone to ever see Kendall like this, this deeply secret fucked up side of Kendall that no one had known about except Stewy before tonight. It had always made him special, being one of the few to know that Kendall wasn’t the All-American Golden Boy Son that Logan tried so hard to dress him up as._

_The ambulance came, flashing lights and sirens and all. Stewy watched them, vision blurred, as they loaded Kendall’s body into the back. Somehow, they let him inside, though he doesn’t remember how or why. The ride to the hospital was excruciatingly slow and bumpy, and the night was cold and unforgiving. Stewy tried not to look at Kendall, but occasionally he’d betray himself and steal a quick glance over, his heart jumping into his throat everytime he did. It must have gotten stuck there, as he realized he was having trouble breathing, his breaths coming out in quick gasps, shaking with tears in his eyes. Someone put a blanket over him and something warm in his hands, he didn’t even realize it was a cup of coffee until he squeezed too hard and it spilled all over him. His hands were red and burnt and covered in the sticky brown liquid, but the pain didn’t even register until Kendall was wheeled away into one of the hospital rooms to get some fucking Narcan injected into his veins._

_After one of the nurses was nice enough to give him an ice pack for his hands, Stewy sat himself down in the waiting room. The chair was stiff and scratchy, the fluorescent light bulbs burned his eyes, and the only sound was the quiet beeping of machines and the anxious tapping of his left foot. He waited, waited for Logan or Caroline or even one of his slimeball siblings, but none of them ever showed up. A man in a suit that Stewy didn’t recognize rushed in, waving down a nurse and quietly pulling her aside. Stewy didn’t need to see anything to know that papers were signed, money was exchanged, nothing would be getting leaked to the press. He let out a relieved sigh but it wasn’t until Kendall came shuffling out an hour or so later, that he began to breath for the first time since he saw him in the bathroom._

_After Kendall had passed out in his bedroom, Stewy broke down in his. He had to bury his face in his pillow, worried his hysterical crying and screaming might wake Kendall. He felt something tight and heavy break down inside of him, and was overcome with the need to bite down on something hard. The soft silk of his pillow felt dry and stuffy inside his mouth and so he turned to the palm of his burnt hand, biting down on it until his mouth tasted of blood._

Shaking, Stewy rose to his feet, staring down at a broken Kendall. The taste of bile rose into his mouth and he swallowed it down, feelings of nausea sweeping over him.

“Kendall if you don’t tell me why you walked right now I’m never forgiving you.” Stewy promised, tears in his eyes, “I’m so fucking serious dude I will walk out this door and you will never see me again.” 

Kendall went quiet and Stewy held his breath, watching Kendall rise up to his feet. His back was pressed against the wall, still not sober enough to be able to balance on his own, eyes burning into Stewy’s. There was something about them, something so animalistic and primal and angry, Stewy braced himself, waiting for the feeling of Kendall’s fist smashing against his jaw. And when Kendall came at him, he was prepared.

Kendall’s fist didn’t come crashing into Stewy’s jaw, but instead his mouth, taking Stewy by surprise. A compromise, Stewy realized. Kendall could never let Stewy go, but he was never going to tell him why he backed out either. Stewy moaned against Kendall’s mouth, rage burning in his veins. He didn’t go to fucking Harvard to be neogiated out of businness deal with a kiss. 

But it was Kendall, and Stewy had been aching for something like this for the last twenty years. He had been starving for it, he realized, as they collapsed back onto the bathroom floor, a tragic mess of teeth and hands and biting. It was embarrassingly sloppy and aggressive, even more so than their college days. Stewy kept waiting for something, someone to enter the bathroom, someone to yell at them, or maybe just for Kendall to come to his senses and pull away, face flushed with a look of shame and disgust that Stewy knew better than the back of his hand. 

But Kendall never did, not even when the bathroom door opened, not when the sound of the club’s booming bass wafted in from the opened door, not even at the click of some women’s heels entering the stall next to them. There was no mistaking what was happening in their stall, and the fact that people could walk in and hear and instantly know, the fact that someone already had, the fact that it wasn’t enough to deter Kendall, it was exciting as hell for Stewy. 

He watched, half in amazement and half in disbelief, as Kendall began to unbuckle his Stewy’s belt, pulling down his pants and boxers. He let out a soft surprised moan as Kendall wrapped his mouth around Stewy’s dick.

“Wow that must be some fucking amazing intel you’re keeping from me,” Stewy moaned as Kendall bobbed his head up and down, “you never blew me back in college.”

Kendall’s brow furrowed as if he wanted to object but couldn’t remember a time he had. He wouldn’t of course, even if Kendall had ever gone down on him during those four years (which he hadn’t) he probably would’ve been too fucked up to remember it. Kendall had only ever spread his legs for Stewy when they were both drunk and coked up, each time swearing it would be their last. It has started slowly, a rare event that would happen on special occasions like a birthday or a holiday or the last day they would see each other until they came back from break. And then, somewhere along the years, it would happen every month. Then every few weeks. By the end of their senior year Kendall couldn’t go a day without Stewy fucking him. He couldn’t go a day without snorting something either. At the time, Stewy didn’t really think either one of those things were going to be as big of a problem as they ended up being. 

He was so fucking stupid.

Kendall sucked dick like a nervous virgin who’d never had anything in her mouth before. Which, Stewy supposed, was Kendall’s case, although it really shouldn’t have been. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he growled, pushing Kendall’s head down deeper, “you should be a fucking pro at this with all the times I had to stick my fingers down your fucking throat.” 

It was a decent blowjob. Kendall kept gagging and trying to take all of Stewy in his mouth, which was cute in a sort of fucked up way. He had never seen Kendall this eager to please him, in fact, Kendall didn’t really seem to ever care about pleasing anyone, unless of course, you were Logan. It was a nice change of pace to be on the receiving end for once. He moaned, fingers and toes curling, feeling himself getting close. 

It was at that moment that Kendall pulled himself off Stewy’s dick, retching all over the floor.

“Oh ew bro,” Stewy gagged, trying to push himself away from the vomit, “watch it, these pants are expensive.”

“Sorry dude,” Kendall apologized, and he did actually look sorry.

Feelings of disgust and anger flooded Stewy as Kendall stared back at him. It wasn’t fair, it was never fair, but especially not now, not when Kendall’s face was covered in snot and tears and was nine shades redder than usually, that Stewy still thought he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. It was sickening really, the way he had been waiting to grow out of this stupid school boy crush since seventh grade. It would have been fine, really, if he had grown out of it in middle school, or high school, or college (or after college, that would have been perfect), but something about Kendall was unrelenting and permanently stuck on him, like some kind of imprint. 

“Come here,” he ordered softly and Kendall obeyed. 

And they were back at it, kissing and biting and moving their hands to wherever the other one would allow them to. It reminded Stewy a bit of those videos they played during Shark Week, the ones where the sharks would go after the chum the divers would feed them, attacking fast and in a frenzy. It was violent and desperate and borderline masochistic the way they were going at each other. It wasn’t always like this, most of the time they were fucking in college Stewy tried to be as gentle with Kendall as possible. He had cared about Kendall, he always had, and he always wanted it to be nice. And Kendall always swore that it would be the last time, so Stewy always fucked like him like it was. He always wanted to be the best Kendall ever had.

“Open,” he demanded, and Kendall opened for him.

Stewy slipped his fingers into Kendall’s mouth, hips rolling against Kendall’s as he pushed his fingers down deeper. Kendall took it well, better than he had taken Stewy’s dick at least. Then again, this was probably something he was more familiar with. He kept going until Kendall gagged, and then slowly retracted out of his mouth, moving them down to Kendall’s hole.

Kendall moaned, shaking with pleasure at the feeling of Stewy’s fingers inside of him, and Stewy smiled. Kendall had always been such a slut for Stewy, always so desperate for him. His fingers, his cock, his mouth, it never really mattered, as long as it was Stewy, Kendall wanted it. He needed it, really. The sounds Kendall had always made when Stewy fucked him, the moans and the cries were hungry ones, ones he never made when he was with women. Stewy knew this from their years at Harvard together, and the stupid so-called “sound-proof” walls of their apartment. 

When Stewy pushed himself into Kendall he was met with a pained gasp. He tried to ignore it, fucking Kendall hard and rough against the bathroom floor, kissing the side of his neck, the tiles cool against their tangled limbs. Kendall got louder and louder though, screaming out as his nails dug into Stewy’s back. Stewy winced, knowing that salvia was an ill-fitting substitute for lube and that Kendall was probably in immense pain right now. He tried to prepare himself, knowing Kendall could cry out “no” or “stop” at any time and that would be the end. It never came though, and Stewy began to wonder if Kendall wanted this, wanted to be fucked like this. Raw and painfully against the grungy bathroom floor of some high-end club neither of them would remember the name of the next morning. 

“You ruined my fucking life,” Kendall sobbed out, weak and desperate.

Kendall’s words set off a pang in Stewy’s chest. He knew it was absolutely true, he had given Kendall his first gram, taught him how to take lines like a champ, invited him to each and every college party on campus. It was Kendall’s own fault he was an addict, but if he had to narrow it down to literally anyone else in the world, Stewy knew it would be him. He knew it was more than just that too, he had fucked over Kendall countless times in these last twenty years, and he’ll do it again every chance he gets in the next twenty. It was a never ending cycle between the two of them, let him fuck you over, then fuck him even worse, then wake up and do it all over again.

And yet, Stewy could say the same for Kendall, that he’d ruined his life. The night Kendall had overdosed for the first time, the night Stewy had broken down in his bedroom, he’d had his first panic attack. He had spent his four years in college a nervous mess, he was anxious whenever Kendall was around, but a thousand times worse when he wasn’t. His brain had become some kind of mess, it had become one that was only ever able to process one thought: _Kendall Kendall Kendall Kendall Kendall Kendall._

His grades slipped, he lost weight, his parents were always mad at him. It didn’t matter though, the only thing that mattered was whether or not Kendall was alive and if he was currently overdosing or not, if he wanted to fuck Stewy or not. Stewy hated it, he hated himself for it, he hated Kendall for it. He could remember the type of person he was before Kendall had overdosed, a light and breezy motherfucker, a pro at going with the flow, a guy who didn’t care what happened because he knew things would always work out. Kendall had killed that person and replaced him with a shambling neurotic mess that had nervous breakdown once a week for four years straight. 

Kendall didn’t care though, he had always been too high to ever notice anyways. 

_“Where the hell are you dude?,” Stewy yelled into the phone at a party one night, junior year of college._

_Kendall had slipped out of his sight and Stewy had bounced around the party like a fucking manic, searching for him to no avail._

_“Fuck off,” Kendall growled from the other end, “you don’t care, nobody cares about me.”_

_If anyone else had ever said something like that to Stewy he would’ve scoffed at them. What a stupid, self-absorbed, grade school thing to say;_ **_nobody cares about me_ ** _. But it was Kendall, and while it was still just as stupid for Kendall to say something like that, he was probably saying it while teetering at the top of a building, or with a handful of pills or a knife, or some other nightmarish situation._

_“Bullshit,” Stewy spat into the phone, “I care about you, your family cares about you, half the students here care about you and you don’t even fucking know them.”_

_“Not really,” Kendall said, “they care about like, this version of me they have in my head, but that’s not me, that’s not the real me.”_

_“Yeah okay, fair enough,” Stewy said, mind whirling as he drunkenly stumbled out of the party and across the streets of Cambridge, frantically searching for Kendall, “but I care about you dude, I know the real you.”_

_“Not really,” Kendall cried into the phone, making Stewy flinch, “you know part of me Stewy, a good part sure, but you have no idea how fucked up I really am.”_

_“Fuck off man,” Stewy whimpered, hating how pathetic he sounded, “don’t you trust me?”_

_“Oh I trust you, sure,” Kendall replied, “I trust you to some extent, just like I trust everyone in my life.”_

_Stewy had eventually found Kendall, drunk and high and miserable, shaking in a ditch on a random street. Kendall was skinny enough at this point that Stewy could lift him without much exertion and he lugged him back to their apartment. Kendall didn’t thank Stewy when he finally laid him onto his bed, then again he never really did. It was fine, Stewy thought, it was all really fine._

_He broke down into tears when he reached his own bed, it was his nightly routine at this point. He let himself sob, out of anger, out of sadness, out of fear. He finally passed out around five in the morning from exhaustion._

_When he woke up Kendall was already up, smiling and laughing at the sight of Stewy’s bedhead. Stewy forced a grin on his face and waved his middle finger playfully at Kendall._

When Stewy came it felt like the last time, and not the way Kendall always said it was. It hadn’t been like college, it felt hollow and sad and mediocre at best. He pulled his way out of Kendall with a groan, taking in the sight of him. His body was splayed out against the floor, eyes closed, breath shallow. He looked almost corpse-like and Stewy felt like he might vomit. 

“Do you think you can stand?” he asked, slipping his shirt back on.

Kendall gave a feeble nod, weakly brushing his own cum off of his stomach. Sighing, Stewy pulled some paper towels out of the dispenser next to the sink. He lowered himself down, helping Kendall clean up the mess.

“Alright,” he said after they were both cleaned up and decently dressed, “let’s go home.” 

“Hey,” Kendall said right as Stewy was halfway out the door, “thank you dude, for everything.”

“Yeah man,” Stewy nodding, fingers finding their way to their designated spots on his palm, “no problem.”


End file.
